Chapter 4 – Unravelling

Author's Note: This is the end of the first arc. The next chapter (which is also the last one I have written) will begin after a short time skip. :')

WARNING: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts/feelings, blood, and general darkness!

~ Amina Gila

Anakin clenches his fingers on the edge of the counter in the 'fresher as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. He looks terrible but seeing as he's been virtually unable to sleep or eat since he thought Obi-Wan died, it's probably not surprising. And being electrocuted by Dooku again certainly didn't help matters much. He wants to sleep. He wishes he could sleep.

He can't.

Whenever he sleeps, he dreams of Obi-Wan's death over and over, or something else just as unthinkable. Nightmares plague him ceaselessly, and the only thing that can stop them, if only for a short while, is collapsing from exhaustion. That's another reason why he's let himself go on this long, secretly inflicting injuries on himself and healing them with the Force. Force-healing is draining, and the energy loss is usually enough to knock him out.

"I wish you were dead," he whispers, staring at his reflection. It's the first time he's ever given voice to the gnawing feelings twisting inside of him. He isn't good enough; he never will be. No matter what he does, he'll always, inevitably, end up disappointing Obi-Wan. Case in point: being left in the dark when Obi-Wan faked his death.

It's… hard for him to admit that he really wants death, but he undeniably does. He just won't let it be his hand that ends his life, and knowing his luck, no one or nothing else will either. Besides, Anakin can't do that to Ahsoka. He's not going to leave her as if she means nothing to him, not like Obi-Wan did to him.

And maybe it's not death that he wants as much as it is for the pain to end. It never stops. He should be happy, because Obi-Wan is still alive, but he's… still mourning. Not for his former master anymore as much as for what they'd had and lost. It was all a lie; he accepts that now. Obi-Wan was – he doesn't know why he chose to act the way he had, and why he's still acting the same, when he was planning to force Anakin to understand the futility of attachments. He doesn't though. All he understands is that he's not good enough, that he'll never be enough, that he can't let go, not ever because the pain is too much for him.

Anakin turns away disgustedly from the mirror when tears flood his eyes. It's wrong for him to feel like this. He shouldn't, and he knows that, but this is one weakness he can't get rid of. As long as no one knows, it'll be fine. It will be.

Checking that the 'fresher door is locked, he keeps his back turned to the mirror as he fumbles through his pockets for the small screw he'd found – and used – last time. He knows that he needs to go see Padme, especially seeing as they haven't spent much time together since Obi-Wan supposedly died, but he won't leave his guest room until he's under control again. He refuses to take the risk of lashing out at her because he can't control himself.

The pain gnawing at him is more emotional than physical – the damage from being electrocuted, not to mention hurled into things, having been healed by bacta. Slowly, he drags the screw across his arm, digging a shallow cut. It barely goes through one layer of skin, but it's enough for him to pull himself back together. His nerves are still hypersensitive from the lightning, which is good. Anakin doesn't even try to reason out his thoughts or understand why he's being treated so dismissively all the time. It doesn't matter. If he can make himself not think about it, that would be for the best.

The more he thinks, the more it will hurt. He slips the screw away into a pocket, waiting until the cut has scabbed over before pulling his sleeve back down to cover it, hiding the injury from sight. No one will know. No one has to know as long as he's careful. Perhaps this will become something of a ritual: inflicting injuries so the pain dulls his thoughts and grief. It's effective, and he needn't bother anyone with his problems. It's pathetic anyways for him to be affected this strongly by Obi-Wan's actions. It's not becoming of a Jedi.

With those thoughts circling in his mind, as he tries to convince himself of their validity, Anakin leaves the 'fresher and his guest room in search of Padme. It might be nighttime now, but he knows she'll be grateful to see him, even if they do nothing more than talk – or snuggle. A quiet pang of guilt twinges within him, but he smothers it. He already knows that he's a terrible Jedi, and the secret of his marriage only confirms it. From here onwards, he'll have to be extremely prudent that no one learn the truth, or the consequences will be disastrous.

Hiding his lingering, constant pain behind a well-constructed mask and plastering a smile on his face, Anakin slips from his guest room and through the darkened halls of the palace. He can feel Padme in the Force, her signature a beacon drawing him in. In the end, finding her in an easy task. She's alone, just as he'd expected, and she immediately ushers him into her own rooms.

"Ani, I'm so glad to see you," she whispers, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce embrace.

He hugs her back just as tightly, relishing in his ability to hold her, to feel her body pressed against his. He doesn't deserve her; he shouldn't even be with her, but their love for one another cannot be denied. "I've missed you, Angel," Anakin whispers into her hair as he inhales deeply. Her Force signature is always soft and soothing against the wildness of his own, and he's so grateful that the Force gave her to him. She can calm him when nothing else can.

"How have you been holding up?" she questions a bit anxiously leaning back enough to look up at him, cupping his cheek with her hand. "I know that everything with Obi-Wan must have been quite a shock."

"I'm okay," he assures her, "Better now that you're here." And it's the truth. For once he doesn't feel a desperate need to do something, anything to get rid of the uncomfortable energy humming under his skin. His wife's presence has brought him a sense of peacefulness which has been sorely lacking these last few weeks, ever since he thought Obi-Wan died.

From the look on her face, it's obvious that she doesn't believe him. He supposes that she has many reasons to believe him; he hasn't spoken to her since it happened. "You can talk to me, tell me how you're feeling." She leads him to a small couch and sits down, pulling him down next to her. "I should have words with Obi-Wan for what he did, though I am grateful he was successful in the end."

"Me too," murmurs Anakin, a bit automatically, because he knows he should be, even if there's a gaping void in his chest that cries out that nothing matters except Obi-Wan being safe. It's an instinct, a part of him which he can neither avoid nor ignore which demands that his master – his father remain alive and well. "He's alright, and everything worked out. That's all that matters." He knows how hollow his words sound to his own ears, an unfamiliar tension filling his body – a deep, aching grief which even Padme can't chase away.

"It's alright if you don't feel like that," she whispers, resting her head on his shoulder and running her fingers through his hair. It's soothing, and Anakin feels his tension slowly bleeding away. "I wouldn't expect you to."

He's so used to pouring out his frustrations to Padme and even Palpatine, but he won't let himself do it now. He can't. The pain runs too deeply; it's not something he can easily release, but it will get better. For the first time since Obi-Wan faked his death, Anakin lets himself hope that he can eventually find a sense of peace, even if it means burying all the emotions he shouldn't feel. He'll have to be content with stolen moments with Padme and keep his and Ahsoka's bond hidden from the Jedi, but, if nothing else, it will be enough for him to hold himself together.

"I'll be okay, Padme," he repeats, and this time he means it. "You don't need to worry about me." She will, of course, but it's still his duty to say it. She gives up trying to talk to him, trying to make him talk to her, and leans against him entirely. They stay there together, holding each other close for hours, eventually drifting off in the other's embrace.

Anakin feels secure, protected from the outside world, Padme's Force signature brushed up against his own and keeping him grounded, being his anchor to the here and now. He's content, at least for the moment, all his other worries and fears and hurts lost in the back of his mind. But they'll be back. Eventually.

**w**

Sidious frowns as he looks out at Theed through the window in his guest quarters in the palace. He had hoped that Skywalker would destroy Dooku and take his place, but unfortunately, it did not work out as he had planned. The war has been dragging on long enough that he knows the people are ready to accept an empire. This is only a small setback and nothing more. He can be patient and continue playing with the pieces as he has been thus far.

But something is different. Something unforeseen has begun to disrupt his plans. He can't quite see what it is, though he can sense it clearly. It, of course, revolves around Skywalker. The boy is hurting over his former master's betrayal, and Sidious will admit to greedily lapping up his pain. It's perfect, and so easy for him to nudge pain into an all-consuming rage.

Perhaps he should look into arranging Kenobi's death and this time, he'll make sure the man stays dead. He's been a thorn in his side from the beginning. When the Jedi's precious Chosen One turns against them, they'll have only themselves to blame. Sidious knows for a fact that there were many other, more qualified Jedi who could have undertaken the mission, but when Yoda and Windu had discussed the planned kidnapping with him, he'd mentioned that he has faith in Skywalker and Kenobi's ability to protect him.

It was a bit of a gamble, but Sidious sensed that as a result of his refusal to stay away from the Festival of Light, the Jedi would take action to protect him – ah, the delicious irony of that – and he had hoped they would choose Kenobi. They did, and everything worked out so much better than he had imagined. He's driven a wedge between Skywalker and Kenobi at long last, a wedge which they'll never be able to work past, not in time to save their pathetic Order.

It's only a matter of time before Skywalker is finally his; hopefully, Dooku won't intervene in the meantime, or he'll have to deal with him. Sidious has no doubt that his apprentice is well aware that his brush with death was intentional. Dooku, he can deal with easily enough.

One drawback is that Skywalker now seems closer than ever with his little Padawan. If she'll prove to be a problem, then he'll have to eliminate her as well. With no one to trust, it will be too easy to bring the boy where he truly belongs. Something is still nagging at him though. Instead of going after the bounty hunters in a rage, Skywalker was oddly reticent. And he hasn't been speaking much either; he's said nothing of how he feels with the betrayal. Given everything he knows about the boy, it's not usual.

Well, if there's one thing Sidious is good at, it's getting Skywalker to open up to him. If he fails, he'll know that something is going on which he's not aware of. It won't matter. It's only another small hurdle for him to circumvent, and he's used to it. Time. He has plenty of time, especially with all the threads of the galaxy in his hands to manipulate as he sees fit.

**w**

Ahsoka is glad when they finally reach Coruscant because it alleviates the uncomfortable silence which seemed to fall every time she, Anakin, and Obi-Wan ended up alone in the same room. Anakin's been unusually silent and withdrawn, dark circles under his eyes pointing at his lack of sleep. If she's being honest, she's extremely worried about him. Personally, she's furious at Obi-Wan for his betrayal of them. How could he do something like this to them? Anakin has only been oddly apathetic, staring blankly at the wall in the main hold for hours without speaking or moving. It's unsettling to see him like that.

And if the worried looks Obi-Wan was giving him are any indication, he's worried too. Well, he should be. Anakin's gotten himself into that state because of what happened, and Ahsoka wishes that she knows a way to help him. He slipped away slowly enough that she hardly noticed until it was staring her right in the face. He's closed off, distant, and Ahsoka knows it's because of what happened, though she doesn't know what to do about it. What can she do anyways?

After they reached the Temple, she and Anakin had returned to their apartment while Obi-Wan went to the Halls of Healing to reverse the transformation. It will be nice to see him looking like himself, especially when she yells at him for it. She thought him dead; she mourned and grieved for days, only to learn that it was all a lie. Perhaps she can forgive him, but not until he actually apologizes for his actions. Either way, she'll have nightmares for weeks, maybe even months.

Anakin is leaning against the window frame, staring out at the city in the living room when Obi-Wan arrives. Ahsoka looks up from where she's sitting on the couch, trying to convince her brain to cooperate on an assignment from one of her classes, frowning. "You do look better," she states dryly, and her voice snaps Anakin back to the present.

He turns around, eyes flicking her Obi-Wan's body. "Ahsoka's right," Anakin agrees, lips quirking into a smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I do have to say that you look bizarre without any hair though."

Obi-Wan smirks, stepping further into the living room, acting the way he always used to when he came over before this whole mess. Ahsoka's hackles rise, and she's powerless to stop the surge of anger that catches her off-guard. "I suppose I do," her grandmaster agrees, touching his face a bit self-consciously. "I thought to come talk to you, since we didn't really speak after everything."

Ahsoka glares. "There's nothing for me to say to you," she declares coldly.

Anakin turns towards. "Ahsoka," he says reproachfully, tone warning, "Obi-Wan did what he had to do. He's fine. That's all that matters."

She gapes at him, too shocked by his words to even form a coherent sentence. Did he really just… defend Obi-Wan? Anakin seems unperturbed by her reaction, glancing back at his former master and grimacing. "Sorry about that," he apologizes. "It's been hard for her."

"Hard for me?" she screeches, jumping to her feet and stomping over to Anakin, knowing how juvenile she must look, though she's too mad to care. "Master, you're the one who stayed in your room most of the time and almost never left!"

Anakin raises an eyebrow, and Ahsoka wishes she knew how he can possibly be acting so casual about all this. "That was in the beginning," he concedes, "Before I knew what was happening."

"Right," she scoffs, remembering how he'd acted after they had learned the truth. She had felt his pain screaming through their bond though he was trying to hide it, and she knows that he's lying. But she doesn't understand why.

Her gaze darts to Obi-Wan for a moment – he's standing there looking uncertain – before refocusing on her master. They stare at one another for a long moment, neither willing to be the first to look away. Anakin's eyes are still oddly vacant as he finally turns away from her stiffly. "I only wanted to apologize to you both for making you think me dead," Obi-Wan states quietly, and Ahsoka thinks that he feels awkward.

"It's fine," Anakin answers, tone a bit more forceful than it was earlier. "You did what you had to do. Let's just leave it behind us."

"Who are you and what have you done with my master?" Ahsoka blurts out before she can stop herself. To be fair, Obi-Wan is also looking at Anakin will a great deal of uncertainty.

Personally, she feels lost. On one hand, she's glad that Obi-Wan is alive, because it means that Anakin won't continue to move around like he's only partially there – he seems to be doing that anyways right now, though he's hiding it admirably well – but on the other hand, she's hurting. She doesn't know what to do or even how to deal with her tangled mess of emotions in her chest. She's never had to face something of this magnitude before, and she's lost.

Anakin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm being reasonable," he states flatly.

Ahsoka definitely sees the way Obi-Wan's eyebrows shoot upwards, a ripple of surprise and bemusement echoing into the Force through his shields. "No. You're not!" Ahsoka cries, throwing up her hands in frustration.

He frowns, exchanging a glance with Obi-Wan. "Okay, so how do you think I should be acting?"

"He deceived us," she points out, not missing how Anakin twitches ever so slightly, "And how can you not be at least a little mad about it?"

"It all worked out. I have nothing to be mad at," he replies, voice eerily calm.

"Fine!" she exclaims, turning an icy glare on Obi-Wan, "But don't expect me to be as forgiving." With those words, she storms to her bedroom and locks the door behind her, trying not to let on how lost she feels. Everything is wrong, and Ahsoka has no idea how she can even begin trying to fix anything.

**w**

Obi-Wan can't quite hold back a frown as he follows Ahsoka's departure with his eyes. He'd expected that Anakin would be mad, but that he'd let go of it quickly after raging about what happened. To see this – whatever exactly this is, it's unsettling to say the least. Anakin's expression is almost completely blank, though Obi-Wan knows him well enough to see the almost imperceptible tightness in his face, a sure sign that he's holding back some emotions. That his feelings aren't being reflected in his eyes is odd, though. Obi-Wan can't even remember the last time Anakin was able to control himself so well.

But it's not simply a matter of control, because he's shielding to the point where even a thorough probing of their bond reveals nothing except the eerie and unnatural calm which Anakin seems determined to exude. Obi-Wan knows Anakin, and everything about the situation is screaming wrong. He doesn't know what to do, or how he can even begin to coax Anakin out of the almost-invisible shell he's wrapped himself in.

He's not willing to overlook the gift he's been given; he doesn't want to fight with Anakin, but he knows him, and he also knows that hiding emotions long-term isn't healthy, though it does seem to be Anakin's usual method of dealing.

After a pause of silence, Obi-Wan crosses over to the couch and takes the spot which Ahsoka just vacated. He can feel her tumultuous storm of emotions, and he finds that he can't bring himself to feel anything other than resignation. Even from the beginning, he'd known that one of the hardest parts of the mission would be facing Anakin's and Ahsoka's reactions to the deception.

"Anakin –" he begins, carefully phrasing another apology, one which he hopes Anakin will accept. They need to get this eventual talk over with, much as Obi-Wan might wish to avoid it. He's never been one to avoid things if they're unpleasant, unlike Anakin.

"I'll talk to her," Anakin interrupts, grimacing. "It's been hard for her. She needs some time to accept it." He sits down at the other end of the couch, posture casually relaxed, even if his tension is so obvious to Obi-Wan, who's known him for so long.

He wishes that Anakin would tell him what he's really thinking and feeling. It would make this so much easier, because if he doesn't want to talk about it, Obi-Wan can't very well force him to. He's always given Anakin space if he seems to need it, leaving him alone if he's being reticent. "And you?" he questions mildly, careful to keep his tone gentle and somewhat coaxing. It will be easier for everyone if Anakin opens up. "How are you doing?"

"I'm… fine," Anakin replies, voice sounding weirdly strained.

Obi-Wan wouldn't even need the Force to know that Anakin is lying. He lets his gaze sweep over Anakin's body, studying his posture and the body language that he's learned to read. It doesn't help that Anakin is deliberately, consciously holding himself differently, probably so that Obi-Wan won't be able to read anything. He doesn't understand what's troubling Anakin exactly though he wishes he did. Is it the mission? It has to be about the mission. Why can they not simply talk about it?

"You're not," Obi-Wan states with surety. "You can talk to me, Anakin. Tell me what you're thinking. Holding it in isn't going to help." He keeps the chiding to a minimum, bracing himself for an outburst. Which never comes.

If anything, Anakin seems to tense even further. "I'm fine," he insists with the barest hint of something in his tone, something dark.

It's strange and unsettling, as if Anakin is trying to be someone he's not, and it hurts to see. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wishes that he could see in his former Padawan's mind, read his thoughts to understand what he really thinks and feels about everything. Anakin always wears his emotions openly, but it's often a struggle to understand why he acts as he does; Obi-Wan would like nothing more than to help, but he often feels helpless more often than not when it comes to Anakin. He's nothing like the other Jedi. He's always been different, and Obi-Wan still feels wholly inadequate and unable to help Anakin properly.

"You and I both know that's not true," Obi-Wan points out kindly. "Please talk to me." He won't dare push any further than that, unwilling to widen the gap between them anymore than it already has been.

"There's nothing to talk about," Anakin asserts a bit mulishly, crossing his arms.

Obi-Wan studies him for a moment before giving into the inevitable. If Anakin doesn't want to talk, then he won't. Pushing him will only aggravate the situation. "Let me know if you change your mind," he says, already bracing himself for the damage control he'll have to do when Anakin finally explodes. It will happen; he doesn't know when, but it will.

Anakin only inclines his head in acknowledgement, staring fixedly at the opposite wall. It's… it's unnerving, is what it is, to see him sitting there so still, eyes so vacant, when he always used to be constantly in motion. At least he was before this whole Hardeen debacle. Obi-Wan has never wished he'd taken the mission less than he does in this moment, staring at his best friend, the man who is dearer to him than anyone else in the galaxy, wondering what went wrong and wishing he could fix it.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan offers, realizing the insufficiency of those words, but it's all he can offer. He doesn't know what more to say.

"It's not you who needs to be sorry," Anakin mumbles under his breath, so quietly that Obi-Wan hardly hears him. He stands abruptly turning towards the bedrooms. "I don't mean to keep you. You must have other, more important concerns."

Obi-Wan gapes at him in shock as he disappears to his room without looking back. The comment is so unexpected, that he doesn't even know how to react. What just happened?

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